Jul 30th, 2003, 12:15 PM
-Con'td from above-
It was one of those mornings where you just did'nt want to get out of bed. I awoke to the cacophony of our First Sergeant Romain, who was screaming at the top of his lungs ,"Get the fuck outa bed you shit for brain bastards!!!". I checked my watch, as i wiped my red rimmed eyes. "7 am, sheeit" I said to myself. We were promised a day off after what we had just gone through in Ashau Valley as a support element to the 2nd brigade that had fought so hard for that godamned hill. It was hands down one of the bloodiest engagements i had ever been a part of, one that i wished to push far from my mind. It was easy to remove such thoughts into the depths of my conscious, with Romain running amok in the barracks....
A very non-bullshit taking individual, Romain was a man that pulp novel authors could easily fill volumes about. Legend has it he was on his 3rd tour in country, and that he declined DEROS and a cushy little deskjob in the states to remain in the action. Just thinking about the man made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Luckily his attention was currently on Summers, a private that had just moved in from battalion. Apparently Summers had a hard time rousing from his slumber after last night's bout with 2 fifth's of Red label and that petite young prostitute he had proposed to.
Romain, looked down at Summers and smiled maniacally, the evil grin accenting the sparkle in his grey-blue eyes... The kind you would look into and instantly look away from, as all you could see was death in them; And beyond that -if you stared hard enough- You may even see you're own reflection. Slowly moving to the side of summers' cot , Romain got a grip on the frame and flipped Summer's out onto the Hard floor. Summers hit the deck with enough force to bounce him up about 2feet into the air. Needless to say Summers was awake at this point...
I quickly exited my cot, already pulling on a fresh pair of camo pants and halfway into my boots. Romain moved to me and looked down. "Morning, Top.", I squeeked... Looking over at summers who was still in a daze and rubbing his head. Last thing i needed was a boot in the ass this early in the morning. "We move out in an hour. Get you're gear, get fed and meet on the line" Romain retorted sharply. I could tell he was a little pleased with the Cot stunt and I sighed in relief as he crisply moved out of the hooch.
By this time everyone in the hooch was wide awake and in varying forms of dress. I pulled on my shirt and grabbed my Ruck and threw it on the cot. Not having any idea what the hell was in store for us, i decided to pack light. No sense in carying all types of shit i wouldnt need through the jungle. I opened up my locker and tossed a couple of pairs of fresh socks into the Ruck. -A bad case of jungle rot was not a prospect i wanted to worry about, and in the Steamy jungle if one didnt get a dry pair of socks on daily it could cause serious issues. Beyond the socks, i broke out 3days of rations, my poncho and liner, compass, knife and other essentials. I could already feel the heat of the morning sun as it's fiery rays heated up the tin siding that was used to make the walls and roof of the hooch. It was going to be a long day...
After Grabbing my rifle and webbing, I opened the Hooch door to a blast of heat that almost seemed to suck air out of my lungs. Squinting my eyes I looked around. The Firebase i was stationed at was no more than a month old and still being built up. Various sand bag emplacements, covered artillery positions and hooches could be seen in View. I looked over at the command post, it had our company crest, and a newly painted small sign that read "LRRPS- First in Last out". "Lrrps," i thought to myslef and chuckled. It seems the army can find an acronym for anything. In this case it was reffering to our newly formed unit of Long Range Recon patrol, something i volunteered for to get out of my last outfit. I figured filling sandbags in the rear area's of Dak-to was a pussy way out. I was forced into this mess as due to the draft an i would make the best of it. Doing REMF work in a rear area was about as appealing to me as a stomach pump.
My father used to have this saying "It is always better to live on you're feet than die on you're knees", it used to scare the shit out of me as a young child, but as a young man, the pressure to live up to my father standards was too great. After boot camp, i somehow managed to get by AIT and then ultimately into the Special Forces, where i became well versed in weapons, munitions and communications. After being sent over to Vietnam, i had been placed first in a forward area near the city of Hue, where we helped train the South Vietnamese Army in the fine art of efficient killing. After that was completed, they rolled a number of us back to the rear as advisors. Ultimately it was not the life for me, so when my Commanding Officer at the time asked for members to join this new "LRRP" outfit i jumped at the chance...
The loud swooshing sound of a F4 phantom flying low in the distance snapped me out of my thoughts, I had other things that needed to be taken care of. After a quick meal of powdered eggs for breakfast, i went to the armorer to stock up on grenades and ammo. The Armorer was a cheerful sort named Jefferson, a strong brother from the streets of detroit. For some reason we always seemed to get along quite well... "Wassup Deuce?" , Jefferson said with a smile, (using a nickname i was given in training) "What you think you'll need today?". Pondering his question for a moment, I said back casually, "The usual, plus some WP and a few frags". Quickly and efficiently Jefferson walked in the back and handed over the Goods, He must have known about the mission before i did, as he did'nt make his usual small talk. I looked over the equipment. The WP -White Phospherous- grenade was an anti-vehicle grenade, which could be used in a number of roles. Mostly used on the engine blocks of jeeps and tanks, the White Phospherous burned hot enough to melt almost completely through even the biggest Hunks of metal. I personally liked to use them to mark positions for napalm as the white smoke given off could be seen for miles and seemed a little better than our colored smoke grenades, which we used mostly for extractions and dust off's. The frag grenade was a standard mark-29 pineapple grenade which looked almost identical to ones used in world war 2. I guess a good design stands the test of time.
Along with my grenades were two bandoliers of 5.56 amunition that was preloaded into clips. I had about 16 clips in all with about 20 rounds per clip. It seemed like it might be alot, but that ammo gets burned up fast in a fight. The 5.56 was a nato round that our M16 rifles used, my car-15 (a shorter version of the m16) was chambered in the same round. I preffered the Carbine over the M16 because it came out of the box with a aluminum plated reciever which helped against jamming. The Current M16 models where still being replaced or retro-fitted with this aparatus, and it was badly needed. Combined with the humidity and dirt of the jungle, the smokeless powder used in the m16's easily gummed up and jammed rifles. It was a rumor among the enlisted that jammed guns caused more deaths than actual Viet Cong Kills, I did not wish to learn the hard way.
I slung the bandoliers around my neck, clipped my grenades to my webbing and eased my rucksack onto my back. I jumped up and down in place a couple of times to make sure it was firmly seated and then moved over to meet up with Romain and the rest of the squad for orders....
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